Shattered
by Moon kitsune
Summary: For all things broken were once whole... a story of xianghua
1. Prelude: Barren

_I do not own Soul Calibur… damn_

_For a long time now I have been contemplating writing a fanfiction, and in that contemplation I have written many, but have never have I finished a single one. I either lose interest, or find something else to hold my attention. However, recently I have set down to start this one, and I will finish it, though soon or later is still unknown. I believe the story of Xianghua is one that deserves to be told in depth. Not in the short versions so many arcade games are known for. So many circumstances and unknown's surround her origins and destiny, and I want to exlplore a few. For I believe she is in a wa,y the heart of Soul Calibur, for she is the one it was given to…In no ways am I a great writer, or even a decent one, I know this, you do not have to point it out. And I have only recently began to play Soul Calibur, so I am sure there will be many holes. I hope in some ways I stick to the general story, but I do not plan on following the exact outlines… for I believe Xianghua's story is not one that follows any route… only a path as endless as the legacy given from mother to daughter. I want to explore the life told and the one untold… So here is where I begin a story… a story of Xianghua…_

…

_I put your picture away,_

_Sat down and cried today…_

(Sheryl Crow & Kid Rock)

The walls of our house are barren; holding nothing except the faint outlines of frames they used to cradle.

If I squint, I can almost recall the images those frames held, certain momentary aspecs like the hint of a smile, the curve of a shoulder, the paleness of a hand. Yet when I try to fit the pieces together they waver like a mirage into the dust lining the walls.

The day my mother took down the pictures was the day when everything began to change, even her… the voice of her laughter grew silent, her gaze became faraway as if looking at something that was no longer there, and the picture I once held of her began to grow dim, becoming another empty space upon the wall of my memory. Her phobia of pictures slowly became something tangible, and as if in respect to that fear the other pictures lying aroud the house began to disappear. Almost as if they had never been.

I can not tell you where she put them, or even the day when I first came home to find our house empty .

I try to recall the before, when the pictures were bright and smiling. Only now, facing the after, I can do nothing but wonder when it became something different.

I try to remember my life before this, before the present began to poke holes in the memories that the pictures used to fill. I look at the wall and try to piece together my life, yet I see nothing but empty space.

…

_I know this really is not much, even for a prelude, and I understand that it really gives no clue to anything… but I assure you that it does play a vital part in my story. It is by no means wonderful or great as a prelude goes, but every journey begins with a single step… this is mine…_

_Please Revies… thanks for reading!_


	2. Reflections of Remembrance

_First off I want to thank all of the reviewers who have taken the time to read my story. I appreciate it so much! Forgive me if at and point and time the characters seem… well out of character, I will do my best!! Please bear with me, I know the constant changing of points of view and flashbacks may be confusing, if you have anything that is unclear to you just drop a review!_

_Oh yeah, things in italics are not flashbacks of course but characters afterthoughts in a situation!_

…

_I wanted to see you soon_

_But All I had left was your empty room_

MoonKitsune

…

How can you measure a life?

Is its worth within the memories made? Or is it lying amongst the ruins of things learned?

Just when it is fair to deem a life worthwhile or worthless?

What is the measurement in which to judge a life? Is it in the times you have cried? Or is it in the smiles you have given? The only way to find out whether a life was truly one of worthiness is to ask said person if they were happy… but if said person is dead, you are only left with the possibilities… the remainders…

…

Chapter 1

For Xianghua, a life could only be measured by the things you have left behind… for that is all that remains to examine. In the case of her mother, all that she had left behind was questions.

Facing the mirror of her palace room, Xianghua gazed upon her reflection and wondered where the time has gone.

The mirror is relatively plain like the rest of the room, without extremely elegant borders or fanciful designs. It is nothing more than a wall of translucent glass stretching seemingly endless to the pale ceiling, resembling in the illusion that its crystal hands could stretch forever into eternity and back again before Xianghua could even blink. She lets a finger trace the silver edges trimmed with hints of chipped gold with the border hoary and worn, seemingly telling a story of life through the blooming flowers that taper down to the never fading presence of death in the fists of tightly closed buds, and roughly hammered birds spiraling down around the edges and tips.

The wood of the frame has become worn with time; dust speckles the ends of bird wings, faint gaps open like hungry mouths where the glass meets wood. Bestowing upon the old mirror a somewhat crooked and unbalanced appearance.

It was anything but beautiful, the features to mismatched to form unity or attractiveness; a sense of completion. The frame is lacking in something, a picture, a carving, something indescribable that makes it incomplete. Almost like a puzzle with pieces missing. You know what the final picture is supposed to be, but somehow you are unable to find the right pieces, Unable to fit it together with your eyes. Xianghua's hand embarks on a seemingly endless journey to find those pieces, tracing the outline of falling birds and the woody softness of dying flowers in the far reaching corners of the outline.

Unsuccessfully pretending the picture of her, the one inside the oaken walls of the mirror did not exist, the one splaying across the cold glass with knowing eyes.

She sticks a fingernail chipped and dry into the crevices between the wood and glass, brushing dust and stray splinters before taking it out again, pretending not to notice that the angles of her hand are as pale as the smooth glass.

With a bitter sigh of reality she rests her hand on the planes of the iridescent blue glass, gazing upon her hazy reflection half hidden in shadow and dust.

Beneath thin brows and delicate lashes, her long eyes are a bitter gray like sharpened swords drawn for battle, their shape a narrow almond. The cheeks are pale with the memory of pink somewhere farther down, steep ridges of bone revealing the sharpness resting beneath soft cheeks. A scatter of freckles adorns the left side of her face near the jaw line; it is the only flaw on seemingly fair skin a little too pale and too dry.

It is an odd face, all angles, most of them seemingly wrong. A nose nearly too big protrudes over half full lips the color of a dusty pink. The chin is nearly too small and comes almost to a point, and with the prominent cheekbones it gave the face a fox like look.

Xianghua could feel her eyes narrow at the pair of eyes gazing back unto her own… it was her face, but it was also her mothers face…

With a silent oath of disgust she let her fingers rake across the image, leaving five angry smudges across the triangle of flesh and eye.

It hid her face, but not the memory that face basked in; the memory of her.

With a shake of her head she sends layered tresses the color of dark maple across her narrow neck, whipping full bangs around cat like eyes.

It has been two years… and even after all of this time she is able to remember the day she left.

…

When Xianghua had packed all the keepsakes and trinkets that had made up their personal history into cramped boxes and a single bag, the house become a ghost.

To Xianghua, it seemed all too appropriate.

Her head was tilted to the side as she stood in the den, taking in the absence of rugs, tangling fishing poles, discarded gardening tools and frames that once held pictures of her mother's life… a life she had never known. The pictures had disappeared around her fourth birthday, the day when she had begun to ask who the man was in the few pictures her mother had. Without those meaningless trinkets the room was painfully bare, it looked like a ghost.

To Xianghua, it seemed all too appropriate.

With the utmost care she packed away the plates and the knives, storing them with all things forgotten in the stacking boxes, and threw away the wilting flowers of forget-me-nots her mother always had in the windowsill. The walls too were soon bare of the knick-knacks of her lineage, her mother's history, her history… but that was fine, she never knew it anyway.

All was gone in the front rooms, and after a quick survey Xianghua concluded that their house portrayed what she knew of her mother and herself… nothing but emptiness.

That suited Xianghua just fine; it gave her spaces to fill.

There was only one thing left in this house that Xianghua had a memory of, and it was in her room. Somehow, that too was appropriate.

With a final glance to the front rooms she departed into the days of her childhood, days she had never been able to hold onto.

…

Facing the doorway, Xianghua found herself hesitant to enter this room, if you could even call it such.

_It had been her grave… even before she had died._

The room was as barren as the life that had held it. It's dim exterior hidden beneath layers of darkness and shadow that never faded with daylight.

Floors that might have once been maple were now the color of dirt, worn down from too much use and too little care. How easily it reminded her of Xiangfei. The walls were a dingy white, stains of the horrors her mother had seen nightly lining the memory of the flowered wallpaper. Corners, sharper than any knife were stacked with the past that had slowly eaten away the hope of a future… a future where her mother might have lived.

With a grim smile Xianghua took tentive steps into the darkness, carefully avoiding the splinters sticking out like the ends of jagged knives.

She felt as if she were entering a black hole, her skin, her soul eaten away by the perpetual gloom that had branded her mother's heart. Or at least what had been left of it.

Her mother had died six years ago … yet she still had no tears for her… for she had been dead long before they had her buried.

How could you cry for something that was never there to begin with?

Xianghua gave a deep sigh that permeated the bone dry weariness of her soul, her eyes the color of wine gazing around the room as if to imprint it in her mind forever. There were no worldly possessions of her mother within the room; for Xiangfei had always said what she wanted could never be held within this room.All that had survived her death was a bed, and an armoire slunk against the farthest wall away from the dirty window. She would clean it out one day, just not today.

The bed where she had sunk away was made up on Xiangfei's side, untouched, even by the sun peeking through the ragged edges of the black laced curtains.

There was only one thing left in this room that held a never changing memory of her mother. It was a panel of stained-glass sitting on the solitary window, one of pink and white roses on a blue border trying to catch the memory of sunlight within its panes.

Xianghua and Xiangfei had made it outside at the kitchen table when she was nine.

The brightly lit panels filtered through the shiny glass, branding the colors on the mattress in a garden of light.

In its light Xianghua can see the last happy memory it embodied..

…

"No Xianghua." Xiangfei admonished swiftly as Xianghua's fingers deftly tried to push a petal of a rose into the gilded frame only to have it snap in half. "You must be careful. It is fragile, see how it bends?" Her mother said in her airy voice, demonstrating to her only daughter as she bent another shard of white glass into a recognizable shape. "The lead bends, it can break." With a quick flick of her wrist her mother took the glass from Xiangfei's trembling hands and set them in a puddle of sunlight.

"Okasaan, I'm sorry!" Xianghua whispered, looking at her mothers face for forgiveness.

"It is fine Xianghua, we have plenty more." She said with a smile, though it did not reach the corners of her eyes. That is when Xianghua realized she had done something wrong… lately when her mother looked upon her it was as if she had been seeing something else, something that made her want to cry.

Startled, Xianghua felt her bottom lip tremble as she stared at the shattered remnants of the glass falling like rain over the table. "Xianghua!" her mother spoke deftly, filling the room with authority.

Xianghua turned her head to look at her mother.

"Nothing, I just did not want your tears Xianghua. You need to save them." Her mother said almost apologetically.

"Save them for what Okasaan?" Xianghua asked curiously.

"For heartbreak Xianghua… always and only for heartbreak…" Xiangfei chided, her eyes intent on the stained glass as she stuck them into a pattern of bloomage. Xianghua watched as her mother held it up to the light, looking for the flaws in the glass.

It made Xianghua wonder if her flaws were as easy to see as the ones in the colored glass.

"Remember, Ciao women do not have the option of crying… I want you to remember that… can you do that for me Xianghua?" Her mother was looking at her intently, almost as if trying to etch the importance of the question into Xianghua's skin.

Xianghua just nodded as her mother propped the frame on the table, both of them watching as it bathed the soft wood in white, pink, and blue."Xianghua, can you tell me what holds the glass together?" Her words were as soft as the colors dancing across the table, a whisper in the dark.

Xianghua scrunched her face in concentration, staring at the colorful bits of lead and sea glass.

"The frame."

"Yes Xianghua. The glass, although it is what makes the picture would not be able to endure without the wood of the frame. The support it gives provides the glass the ability to hold together, even when it should be falling apart. Frames can fit anything with the proper measurements… You Xianghua in your life must be a frame. Remember that Xianghua, be a frame.

Xianghua found herself nodding, though now she was more confused than ever.

"Be a frame…" Her mother spoke softly… Xianghua would never know if those words were meant for her or for her mother.

…

Staring at the paneled glass Xianghua realizes she should have known just how fragile things were.

Bringing herself from this tailspin of recollection Xianghua shook off the sadness. It would not do to dwell on things now…

With the memory of tears in Xianghua's eyes she walks towards the door. She pauses momentarily, as she looks upon the stained glass upon the windowsill. A smile lives and dies on her lips just for her Xiangfei. Sometimes she wonders if the memories are kept better this way, a little sweet, a little sad, but colored through the eyes of a child looking through sea glass.

With a shake of her head that sends auburn hair sliding, she lets her hand slide from the door, letting it close on her childhood to face the emptiness of her house. With a bittersweet smile upon her face, Xianghua walked through the door of all she was, and let it close upon all that she had been, facing towards all that she could be.

…

Tracing a finger on the glass Xianghua finds it hard to believe that time can pass when she has been so unaware of its presence. Xianghua always thought the future was such a distant day.

Only… looking at the promise of winter hanging in the sky outside her palace window, she knows better.

"Xianghua! Are you ready? His majesty is awaiting to begin your review." The voice on the other side of her door is deep and cultured. Everything hers is not. The reverberating tenor snaps her from the stupor she had been digging herself into.

"Um yeah, I'll be right there." Xianghua turns away from the mirror. Looking upon its flawless surface just reminds her of everything she can not be.

Tugging the color of her gi self-consciously Xianghua headed towards the doorway.

…

_I know its short, but I promise they'll get longer! Next up is a look at another character important to Xianghua's story. I think we all know who that is_


	3. Shackling of a Soul

_Yes I own Soul Calibur… if you believe that, then I have a house in Beverly Hills I am looking to sell._

…

"_Do you worry that you're not liked?_

_How long till you break?_

_You're happy 'cause you smile_

_But how much can you fake?_

_An ordinary boy_

_An ordinary name_

_But ordinary's just not good enough today_"

-Our Lady Peace, "Superman's Dead"

(Recommended listening for this chapter)

…

Chapter 2

_It is said that you can not exist in this world without leaving a piece of yourself behind. There are paths, footprints, promises you have made to others. There are signs of your life that stay even after you have left. So even if you never met a soul, never said a word to any other person there was still proof that you existed. Someone just has to care enough to look for that proof._

_He would always wonder who would care enough, love enough to look for him the day he left. These thoughts are rarely something he gives his voice to, acknowledging them just sets them in stone._

_He was never one for permanency._

…

Kilik's window was broken; he is reminded of its handicap as he sits on the bed by its translucent glass, the cold wind crawling over his skin.

No matter what he did It just never seemed to sit in the track right, so it was never able to close completely.

There was a small sliver between the sill and the frame, and it was just large enough to let the whisper of winter air in. Something was always slipping in-between the small slit, no matter how tightly Kilik would try to seal it. Sometimes he would look at it and wonder if his own slit was so obvious, leaking out all he had tried so hard to hide. If people could just look at him and know that he was slowly letting out everything he had become. If they knew that he was as fragile as an insect's husk, just as empty, just as hollow.

_Kilik had never been whole, he had never even been broken… he had never even put together. _

Kilik had been staring at the white walls of his temple room his entire life (so it seemed), waiting for a sign… a meaning of his life to fall through the rain stained tiles.

At the moment he was trying to convince himself that if he stared until his eyes crossed, that the oblong tiles would morph into the sky, that their stiff frames of paste and imitation marble would become wispy veils of cloud swirling across the white and blue surface of his ceiling. Yet that image was interrupted by the collection of dots staining his eyes from the effort. His mouth was set in a narrow line as he gave a burning blink, narrowing his cornflower irises until he convinced himself he could see all the way through his paper sky to the heavens above.

He was looking at his ceiling, and his body was lying on his bed. Yet he was not really there.

He could never make himself comfortable here, even after sixteen years Kilik had never really been able to catch his breath. He was still that baby on the doorstep, and still trying to find a place that he could fit.

It had never been here, and it never would be. Though after tonight it would have to be, for after tonight he would be the guardian of the Kali-Yuga, and stuck forever in this place he never really fit

It had always bothered him to some degree that he would most likely grow old and die here, yet deep in his heart he always knew that if he desired he could leave. Nothing held him here except moral debt, and that had been repaid.

No longer was that the case.

After tonight when his blood sealed the bond with the deity of the Ling-Sheng Su Temple, the shackles he had been staring at his entire life would be sealed… and there would be no escape.

…_**."Who are you?"…**_

……_**.."Don't you know? I'm a prisoner."…… **_

His future. Was there such a thing? Did men like him have futures?

A guardian? Kilik wanted to laugh at the though, how could he protect others when he was unable to protect himself from his own doubts.

Kilik was unsure of how to accept such a position- tying himself to everything he had ever despised, scorned, hated… and now finding that those were his only options he felt something in him close off.

Structure... reliability. He had come to worship structure, because it was all that kept him sane. He knew how his day would end as soon as he woke, following that routine made him feel like he had control, when he knew he had nothing of the sort.

He heard the door open, but it seemed far away.

_Dare he hope?  
_

_Was there hope left in him?  
_

_How much?_

His sigh is one of absence, trying to fill the spaces he holds in his mind. Yet they are unable to penetrate the length of his skin, hardened by a life not given but assigned.

Nothing in his life had ever been his own, the only thing he had ever been given freely was Kali-Yuga, and even that had been earned. Legally the rod was not his, nor would it ever be. He was merely the best choice of the candidates living here, and if another were to appear on the stone steps as he did, someone more capable then he, then Kilik would have to pass it over.

His long fingers tightened upon the staff almost protectively at the thought of it ever leaving his hands. It was a part of him as much as the grief; it was the only anchor he had to this life, to lose it would be to lose everything. He shifts if closer to his chest, sliding it comfortably so it rests across his lap, the red wood glinting in the pale morning light, the gold tip resting amongst the leaves of the flowers she had put upon his window sill. The impressive length of its red iron resting across his lap to the open window, a bridge that gave him the ability to cross over.

His eyes fell to the brightly lit flower on the windowsill, how out of place they seemed in this world of water colored paste and washed out light. She was always leaving reminders like that, a flower in the windowsill, on his bed… small reminders that he was thought of even if only for a moment.

If only he could tell her to stop…

He did not want to be thought of, not be Xianglian. For after tonight there would be no need to place flowers in his windowsill, no need to think of him at all. After tonight's ceremony Kilik's life would never be his own, it never had been. Yet there had always been that hope that somehow he could escape this pit.

The promise of freedom from this prison was what made him strong.

Now though, they were throwing a cover over the pit of his life, and not even the sun could reach him.

…

That is how Xianglian found Kilik.

He was sitting on the bed, just as he always had; staring at the ceiling with Kali-Yuga resting across his lap like a pet. The long staff resting in the red petals of azaleas, its gold tip like some buried treasure you had to look for amongst the blooms.

Kilik despite pretenses and appearances was a dreamer, the clouds of his visions just beyond the careless smile he always wore, and he was despite the toughness of his young body, sensitive in the ways of the heart visible in the corners of his eyes. She wondered if he knew how alike they were- loners, soldiers set apart from others both in skill and their own personal exile or sorts. The thought of being compared to her would annoy him she knew, maybe that is why out of respect she hid a smile at the thought.

Even at fifteen he was tall, his long legs encased in blue silk were stretched out, folded at the bare line of his ankles, long fingered, wide palmed hands folded across the flat stomach of his white t-shirt as he gazed out at the sun, the gilded strands weaving throughout the thick shag of his layering hair shifting with every shade of brown, glossy like the pelt of a deer. Eyes narrowed, soft lips drawn in a somber line as the gray irises sifted across the panes of glass. His eyes were on the window, but his mind was clearly somewhere else.

Taking the opportunity she clutched the handful of yellow carnations in her hand and drank him in.

Surely he knew he was beautiful, the same way a bird knows it can fly. The knowledge of the speed it can give and the grace it holds and afterthought. Kilik, instead of overly obsessing over what he was, possessed a somewhat an innate conceit, he had always doted on what he could be, not what he was.

Even now, after his ambitions had dulled with the approaching coronation, his eyes body still radiated that distant fire, a pull like that of the moon to the sun. It drew many closer, and simultaneously, kept so many back. She had often wondered at the strength of that assuredness…if it would crumble if touched the right way, a tree knocked down by the right wind.

"Xianglian…" His voice reverberated through the room, stuck between the innocent pitch of his youth and the deep timbre of manhood he would soon be in. Long ago, Xianglian had come to realize that unlike most people who would tell her hello and maybe inquire about her day, Kilik would say her name. And in-between the syllables of her name he let out from his sculpted mouth, Xianglian could hear him ask each of those things in his own way.

Xianglian felt the soft tissue of her cheeks grow a dull red, her hands tightening upon the yellow carnations she held in her hand. She should have known that he would sense her after all of the rigorous trials his body and mind had been put through. In the back of her mind maybe she did register this on some scale, yet every time she came to this room she found that fact hard to remember... any fact hard to remember.

"Did you need something Xianglian?" He said rather coldly, not out of malice or anger… just weary. Almost as if he had been running his entire life.

_Maybe he had…_

"No, I just wanted to inform you that the attendants will be here shortly for the purification ceremonies… the ceremony will be taking place afterwards in the Lunar Gardens during the flowers bloom." Xianglian said quietly.

Kilik did not meet her eyes, though the tightening of his hand upon the Kali-Yuga confirmed that he heard her, even if he did not acknowledge it.

Xianglian felt a sigh on her lips as she saw the tension staining his shoulders, the angular planes of his face. The way his knuckles were white as they gripped the Kali-Yuga as if to hold him down.

…

Why could she not leave, why did she have to stand here and bring the news he so dreaded… he just wanted a choice…

Desperately he felt the walls closing in, the world spinning, through it he could hear Xianglian voice, a dove in a hurricane. He took no notice of it.

…

"Kilik I was wondering if…"

"Xianglian, I am going on a walk. You can stay here if you want." His voice left no room for invitation or response. Before she could even turn to watch him leave he was gone.

And suddenly he was outside the window, walking, his step growing quicker with every step.

His shirt catching the wind behind him.

Clutching the yellow carnations she made her way over to the window, examining the slightly withered azaleas basking in the memory of the sun. With sure motions and peach toned hands she removed them like a mother does a child from a crib, replacing them with the yellow carnations.

When it came to Kilik they were the only flowers appropriate. They needed very little care unlike the azaleas.

Somehow it was only fair the azaleas required more care than other flowers… their meaning was too important to be satisfied with nothing but a drop of sun and rain here and there.

She had always wondered if Kilik knew what the flowers she brought represented. The azalea's were the memoirs of fragile passion, and oh how they were. Their petals of waiting recognition faded and torn around the edges were a mirror of the heart she held in her chest. Fading within his presence

_I am withered…_

_I am forgotten…_

If Xianglian were to have been a flower she would have been an azalea. They had the ability to be beautiful, but only in the right hands. How she always longed for them to be Kilik.

Yet, as she stared at the withering azalea's Xianglian knew if she were to depend on those hands she too would wither.

With deliberate slowness she let her eyes trace the yellow carnations, already drooping in the hidden wisps of the sun. Their petals whispering there true meaning.

_Disdain…_

_Rejection…_

Xianglian felt something inside her wilt as she watched Kilik's outline fade into the waiting arms of the courtyard trees.

She could remember a time when they were children playing amongst those trees, running in there dappled shadows as they sat in the waiting dark. They would sit for hours in the shelter of the leaves, watching the heavens flecked with silver paint.

"_Look Kilik, a shooting star!" She wrapped a tiny hand around the lapels of his shirt, watching him give her a lazy smile as he turned to watch its brilliance and its failure._

"_Hurry Xianglian, make a wish. Think carefully though, you only get one." His voice was quiet as if telling her some sacred ritual. She gave him a brilliant smile before scrunching her face, twisting her face into what she thought resembled thinking._

"_Careful Xianglian, you wouldn't want your face to get stuck like that." Kilik said with a grin, pinching a cheek that had yet to lose its baby fat._

_She swiped at his hand, trying not to smile as they both leaned back on the dewy grass. Kilik's head centimeters away from her own, the strands of their forming a puzzle impossible to separate. She could see the rising of his chest, the gangly length of his legs he had yet to grow into._

"_What did you wish for Xianglian?" His voice was a knife that cut through the dark._

_She gave a smile that she hoped filled her voice._

"_I can't tell you or it wont' come true…" She said quietly. Feeling the warmth of his body next to hers and the quiet beat of his heart she knew her wish could not have been more important._

_All she wanted was to be able to stay like this forever…_

Xianglian fingered a yellow petal thoughtfully, failing to see the withering azalea's fall out of the window to the dirt below, their red splendor eaten by the weeds.

Looking out of the window for stars that were not there, Xianglian felt sadness for the death of what she thought would always remain.

Foolishly she thought things could stay the way they were if you held on long enough, even people.

But beneath cold hands, Xianglian's flowers robbed of bloom by October winds, whispered that times change

…

_Sorry if things are still a little unclear, in the next chapter I will finally be putting the plot into play._

_Thanks for reading!_

…


	4. Strengthening Shadows

When the evening falls and the daylight is fading,  
from within me calls -  
could it be I am sleeping?  
For a moment I stray, then it holds me completely.

As I walk the room there before me a shadow  
from another world, where no other can follow.  
carry me to my own, to where I can cross over...

Forever searching; never right,  
I am lost in oceans of night.

(Excerpts from evening falls by Enya)

…

Chapter 4

Xianghua took her eyes on a journey to map the planes of the elegant room around her.

She had been waiting for her interview for nearly an hour now, and in her boredom she had come to the conclusion that she was the least attractive thing in this room.

The room was fit for an emperor, for nobles of all ranks and ages. The room was meant for everything grand and beautiful.

**Everything not her.**

The decorations were all sparkling in a way she thought only dreams could, marble floors gleaming deep blue, gold veins hammered into its smooth sea. Large paintings hung on the walls, nearly covering their smooth sheen, but from the soft lines peaking out she could see they were a creamy yellow, almost like fresh butter. The table she sat at was a glossy maple that winked from the pale sunlight streaking through untouched windows, their impressive length decorating the eastern and western walls.

She had been waiting for an hour now… but time did not pass for her like it did for others. Looking at the insignificant length of her skinny writs she began to wonder if it passed at all.

Her stomach was a pit, a nervous sickness that was slowly creeping up her spine. It held there, just along the base, instilling a bitter quake that threatened to push through her stomach and spew on the table.

Now and then she found her eyes darting across the room, waiting for some official or even the emperor himself to burst through the windows and point accusing fingers.

**This is her…**

**She can not be the one we have heard of…**

**A low birth… no doubt from the backwaters of Qu-dong…**

Mostly though, she found herself staring at the centerpiece of the table, a crystal vase with sweeping dragons rising from the glass. The translucent sea of bodies gracefully curving upwards to circle around the hanging laurels and blue Canterbury bells.

Amazingly she found herself wanting to be that vase.

**Flawless…**

It was a simple vase of glass, carved in the shape of ordinary dragons. The tips of their snouts caught in eternal sunlight, diffusing upon the, gloss of wood to spread a scattering of brush strokes along forgotten quill pins and unsigned words.

If only her life could be so easy.

She really did not want to be the vase. It was entirely too fragile. With the slightest touch it would blemish and wilt.

**Smudge…**

Really all Xianghua wanted was what it represented.

Somehow, during her stay in this room, the vase had come to symbolize everything flawless and beautiful, everything simple.

**Everything she could not be…**

A simple vase- an inanimate object simply created for the purpose to hold flowers, to keep things together…

"**Be a frame Xianghua…"**

**A frame…**

**Survive…**

It was a gift to a man who had everything, a man who did not have to worry where his money came from, if he would have food or shelter. It was a man who had everything.

**Just for a day, Xianghua wanted that life. **

Her only possessions she had could fit in this room; in fact they were in this chair.

A white silk gi with impossibly long sleeves and blue trim, loose in the arms and tight in the bodice, emphasizing her small build and fragile neck. The white silk made her seem paler than she actually was. The only color her body held was the sprinkle of Alyssum sewn in the hem of the sleeves and shirttails that hung down and around the loose fitting blue pants, imitation silk that was nearly swallowed by the white tails of her shirt.

The only thing she had of value laid in her lap; the heirloom of the Chai family, the only heritage she had ever know.

_**Jian**_…

It was as much a part of Xianghua as her mother's blood, and when she held the silver, chipped handle in her hand she could almost feel the warmth of her mother and the smell she left behind.

**Hold the handle like this Xianghua… **

**Just like this…**

Xianghua was still surprised they had not taken it when she came in the room waiting for an elected official. For all they known she could be here to kill him or her, although the thought never appeared to enter there minds. Apparently, she did not look much like a threat. It scorned her a little since they were basing this on appearance alone. Her height was rather laughable, and she had little fat or muscle upon her body. Her bony butt made it rather uncomfortable to sit, and the lightness of her skin made her tug self consciously at her pants as if to hide the skin.

She wanted to laugh, a bitter, aching laugh. The warrior, whose swordplay was like that of a flower in the breeze, was also a girl.

**A frame of grace…**

**Mother…**

A mere soldier of common birth whose only claim to fame was the sword in her hand, and the memory of her mother who too had once served the emperor.

Xianghua knew that the only thing working in her favor was the prowess she had obtained with the tai chi jian, but that would only be seen if the emperor and his guard deemed her worthy of the interview.

Looking at the space she occupied and the way she was dressed, and the lackluster of her hair she had little hopes of getting that far. Xianghua's grip on the Jian tightened in anticipation, failure was not an option any longer.

Suddenly, the black doors were thrown back; Xianghua felt her neck give a small snap as she jerked it towards the doorway, rising quickly to her feet. What little muscle she had was set defensively to the bone in preparation for a backwards assault. Jian fell to the floor, but the noise was lost on her ears.

**Falling to darkness…**

Xianghua shook her head at the strange image her falling sword portrayed.

"At ease, Ciao."

Something about that voice caused every hair on Xianghua's neck to bristle, hackles raised, body far from the issued command.

"Long." She did not turn, but then again she didn't have to. Xianghua knew who it was before the figure had said a word.

Li Long walked, no strutted would be a better word as he moved to take a seat across from Xianghua, looking as cocky and demeaning as ever. As he sat down the light striking the vase was gone, and the flowers were covered in his lengthening shadow

Xianghua could not help but smile a little. _Who's the lackey now Li?_

"Recently it has come to my attention that you would like a place on the Emperor's royal guard." Li said carefully, his voice carrying the same, haughty tone that reverberated through the room.

Xianghua stared him dead in the face. It was as handsome as ever. Possessing a lean and virile air, decorated with sculpted lips and a strong chin. His dark hair was thick and wavy, kept in a loose que that left a few ebon strands to tickle his deep brown eyes.

It did not, no matter how handsome make her flush or stutter, it just made her angry. "I do."

"Tell me why you deserve it." Replied her former training partner at the Huo li hua academy. A smirk marring his face.

Anger flew threw her system like wildfire. Li knew she was capable. Yet to him that made no difference, he was going to make her grovel like a dog simply because she had surpassed him in ways of the Tai ji chian. Xianghua swore on her mother's grave she would use the Jian only to protect those unable to protect themselves. She kept reminding herself this as her fingers grew tighter on the handle, how easy it would be to cut that smirk off his face.

Her lips grew in a sneer. "Why don't you just ask Master Huo what he thinks? He thought I was capable enough to deface you in match."

Li's eyes narrowed. "You had better watch yourself Xianghua- I am the only one who has authority to promote you to the next stage." He said regaining his stiff composure.

"Listen, if you think I'm going to kiss your ass to get on the guard-" she started, the fire magic endowed in her soul straining for release at her fingertips. Li stiffened as he felt the warning winds of surpassed power, and for a moment, he got a glimpse of the power Xianghua held. A power of defense and anger, a mere danger simply because she held it in ignorance.

"You do not seem to understand your position Xianghua." Li spoke warningly.

"No, you do not understand!" She shouted in barely suppressed rage, she was going to explode, and then she was going to impale Li like a kebob

…

Emperor Děng hòu long was a man of imposing stature.

For a nobleman he was extremely tall, nearly six feet with a strong frame. His face however was remarkably unlined and stately, with black hair kept tightly beneath the box like crown his position demanded.

For Děng hòu however, it might as well have been a crown of thorns for the burdens and headaches it represented. Though nothing could compare to the one he had felt run throughout his body when he saw the famed flower in the breeze through the cracks of the conference room doors.

She was a little girl, not yet even twenty.

Somehow though, she had managed to cut a swath through every challenge with impenetrable grace. She fascinated him as much as she annoyed him… partly because of who she was.

_Xiangfei's daughter._

Děng hòu shook his head with an illusion of great age. After he had finally been able to put Xiangfei's memory to rest she had to come here. She had inherited Xiangfei's delicate build, but the coloring was someone else's… his, and from the sudden intense waves of heat creaking beneath the door, his temperament.

This morning he had told himself he had no intention to interview this girl when he saw the name Ciao slide across his desk, but during his migration from the throne room to the council room he had somehow found himself stopping at the sound of Xianghua's voice.

"_No you do not understand!"_

"**You don't understand ****Děng ****hòu****." A wispy voice.**

**The smell of flowers, a hand on his shoulder.**

And just by the sound of Xianghua's voice he was submerged by her presence. With a sigh that let out everything he might have held onto, he opened the doors to Xianghua and closed them on something else.

The door opened. "I'm sorry that I'm late-"

The scent of lemon tea accompanied by a voice of steel. "_It is fine_." Xianghua said curtly, her small back to his face as she bore down on Li Long.

"Your highness." Li Long said in a sneer as his eyes dug holes into Xianghua's.

Could it get any worse? The only reason the Emperor had even came in was because of her yelling. If Xianghua had little chance before she had none now. Slowly like a man about to be shot Xianghua turned around.

"**Děng ****hòu****…" A weak admittance.**

**Promise…**

**Remember…**

Děng hòu felt his eyes snap shut as he looked upon her face. It held the coloring of her father, there was no mistaking that, but those eyes were Xiangfei's.

**Open your eyes Xiangfei…**

**Open**

**Xiangfei…**

Cutting open his eyes he stared at Xianghua, trying not to see Xiangfei.

…

Xianghua stared at the emperor, but somehow she saw him as a warrior. She could not say why, maybe it was the way he held his strong shoulders covered in black robes, or maybe it was the firm set in his jaw, mostly though it had to do with the look in his Viking blue eyes.

Jaded and shadowed.

There was something familiar about his face though, like a snapshot of a memory she had lost long ago. Searching the lines of his face Xianghua found recognition in the white scar curving on the underside of a jaw, the scar she had seen but could not place.

"Who the hell are you?" Xianghua asked incredulous, wonder and bewilderment clouding her face.

"Hold your tongue mongrel." Li shouted above Xianghua's shrill rising voice.

Eyes the color of a metal sky fixed on him, and, unlike before, there was no trepidation of his presence to be found there. Just a mix of shock and incredulous fury. "**Fuck** you Li. I do not have to take any of this. Do you hear me, none of it."

"Enough." Ordered Děng hòu, his tone as slicing as a samurai's sword, a voice she never knew an emperor could have.

The two snapped their heads back to attention.

Any more tension and the room was going to explode. Xianghua amused herself a moment by imagining bits of Li's face in that massacre, splattering across her sword before she focused on what he was actually saying.

"Xianghua, you have requested to join my guard. However, as of yet you are not proving yourself capable of anything except anger." Děng hòu said calmly...

The young warrioress's back was as straight as a drawn sword. "Forgive me, **your highness,** but I do not see the point of this interrogation. I have proven myself in reputation alone. _**If**_ I was unsatisfactory in any way you would not have even signed off on this interview, please, let us stop this charade. "Her voice was even and carried a poorly constructed illusion of calm, and for some reason, it annoyed the hell out of him. Then again, that was because it sounded like her mother's.

**You don't understand ****Děng ****hòu****…**

**You don't…**

**You won't…**

Děng hòu felt his heart burn at the memory of Xiangfei, and facing her daughter was not exactly what he would call a remedy. Looking at the slight lift of her shoulders and the firm line of her mouth he saw Xiangfei, and in that reflection he saw the man he once was but could no longer be, not then, not now.

Remembrance as all things were was a double edge sword, for with Xiangfei he saw him. The expression, the eyes, the mouth, they were Xiangfei, but the color, the temperament, and the fire were him. Facing Xianghua he saw them both, and that hurt more than any memory ever could.

Tracing the scar at his jaw was a nervous habit, and he found his hand had been doing it since he entered this room.

Reminiscing was a dangerous thing indeed.

"Xianghua, what do you hope to accomplish by joining my guard?" He asked quietly, suddenly weary and old. He saw Li long frown from his chair, the scowl deepening. He almost smiled at that look, wondering if he knew how much of himself he saw in Li long's shadow.

The pride, the arrogance, and with the belief that he would be able to triumph over anything…

He would be disappointed…

**Děng ****hòu****…**

**Promise…**

Greatly.

"To protect," Xianghua said without taking a breath, the fire cooling as quickly as it ignited in her words.

She could have said anything, the lure of power, recognition, fame… but she did not. For Xianghua she wanted none of those things, she wanted to be strong. She wanted to live for her mother, for Xianghua's triumphs were Xiangfei's.

Děng hòu felt something in him break away at her words.

"**I don't care what happens to me… **

_Xiangfei…_

"_**As long as I am able to protect those I love…**_

"Xiangfei, what do you want to be?" He said in such a rasp he wondered how she could have heard…

Li-long shifted in his chair, the scowl dropping as he faced the emperor. As of late he was acting strange indeed, he whole heartedly blamed Xianghua. Then again, he would have blamed her for anything.

Xianghua's eyes went far away as her head lolled down like a wilting flower… and she uttered a breath, a word so soft it hurt his ears.

"Please will you repeat yourself?" Děng hòu asked quietly, needing this, yet also fearing the words he knew she would say.

"A frame, I want to be a frame." Xianghua locked her eyes with his, sky meeting autumn earth. She was daring him to demean her answer.

"That is the most asinine thing…" Li long began, rising from the chair.

"Sit down Li long." Děng hòu said so dangerously quiet Li long obeyed as his soldier reflexes demanded, like a beaten dog. His scowl remained.

Pain flashed quick and hot in his chest before he could stop it. And by the look in her eyes, she was sure she had caught it. Damnit. It was the same games again, just a new generation...

**Damn her. **

_Xiangfei, what do you want to be?_

**A frame… always a frame…**

_That's ridiculous, why would you want to be a frame…_

**Because, they hold everything together… even themselves…**

"Your majesty let us not waste anymore of your valuable time; this girl has a complete lack of respect for authority. Her lineage is nothing of importance; she would not be beneficial to you in anyway, and her manner is crude at the best of times." Li long swiftly admonished, a hand streaking across a stray hair.

Xianghua narrowed her eyes at him, her lips set in anger, hurt, confusion and disgust. "What's the matter Li long? Afraid your men will see your ass beaten by a lowly born female?"

He sneered. "Actually-"

"Desist this bickering," Děng hòu boomed.

Xianghua reluctantly faced Děng hòu, clenching the handle in her hand like that of death, inseparable. "Forgive me, but is my presence here welcome or not? Or shall I just return to my hut and lowly status without a word?" Xianghua spoke sarcastically.

"No." Replied Děng hòu, trying not to smile at the sour expression on her face. "The idea is-"

"Forgive me, your greatness," said Li long almost sarcastically, "But I still have not heard one good reason to let _her in_."

Xianghua tensed, resisting temptation to remove his kneecaps. She caught Děng hòu glance at Li long, eyes fixed as if he could read Li longs thoughts.

She sighed with great flare, the sword twisting in her lap. "I want to protect others… I want to give others what I never had." It was like spitting nails saying those words, especially in front of Li long and the emperor Děng hòu.

_Why the did I come back here?_

"Which would be?" Li Long asked impatience marring his smooth features.

Xianghua felt her blood burn as she looked into his twisting face, thinking of the trials his mere presence represented.

**Loneliness…**

**Hunger…**

**Desertion…**

**Darkness…**

"A chance…" Xianghua said hotly to Li long.

_nowhere else to go..._

Never did Xianghua want that feeling to be placed on anyone else; she knew how it could brand.

Děng hòu felt a smile bloom softly at the strength he saw in her words, in the way she held her sword, Xiangfei's sword. "Xianghua Chai of the Northern Flower clan, I will give you this chance to prove if your reputation matches your sword. For now you will be given your own room." He then proceeded to turn his head slightly like a stray dog. "And a new fitting of clothes that will be free of your… perfume."

_He said I stink!_

Xianghua bristled as she heard Li long chuckle.

"You will be given this chance only. You will be assigned a mentor of sorts and be under constant attention until your review; at that point and time we will make a choice whether we need your services." Děng hòu spoke in a business like manner.

"You mean to tell me if I suck ass or not." Xianghua muttered under her breath.

A chance, being handed over directly by Li long and his biased eyes. And in an instant, Xianghua knew exactly why he was here.

"He is going to be my instructor is he not?" Xianghua asked deafly low, baring upon Děng hòu's eyes with authority he only saw in the mirror.

"You sure are a quick one Xianghua. You know what this means don't you; I can kick you out of here anytime. The first rule you break, the first order you ignore you and your bony ass are out of here." Li long said in equal mirth.

"Hiding behind a position now?" Xianghua spoke as she laid her sword quietly on the table. "It suits a pansy like you, and I thought I was supposed to be the_** girl**_." Drawing out the last word.

Li longs hand was on the handle of his sword before he could even finish the words. "Say that again Xianghua."

Xianghua mirrored his move as her lips parted at the seams to speak, but another voice was quicker.

"Shut up the both of you." Děng hòu's frustration was mounting at the constant fighting, exasperation now fueling his outburst. "I did not come here to see children snip." If one in this room was surprised at his interruption they did not show it…

"Xianghua, you are done with the interview for now. If you would be so kind as to wait outside so I may speak to my associate Li long." Děng hòu asked in a way that was not really asking.

"Yes your highness." Xianghua spat out, reluctantly breaking the icy stare of Li long. With sure grace she picked up Jian and gave the captain of the guard a dark look before stalking out with the pent up energy of a bird about to strike, slamming the door behind her.

…

Li long turned to Děng hòu with a look of great disdain and anger, much like Xianghua.

"Li long, it is in the best interest I assure you that I am assigning you to Xianghua…… you are the best choice to oversee her….ability and condition." Li long stared at him like a dragon about to eat a peasant. Perhaps the simile was not so far off.

"As interesting as it would be to poke at that the mutt, and despite the way I appeared eager to take this on, I merely did it to rattle her chain so to speak. Respectfully, I refuse. Give it to Shui." Li long said with a haughty huff, rising from the plush chair.

Děng hòu was little surprised at Li longs refusal but he held it in. "No one else is as qualified as you are Li long. You two used to train together, you know her technique already, it should be an easy task."

"Well why don't you do it then if it is so fucking simple?" Li long erupted forgetting himself and his position. Immediately he quieted, his voice dropping a few octaves in his self chastisement. "You can't assign me every unwanted orphan that comes wandering in… I mean look what happened last time Děng hòu?"

"Li long please." He said a broken man, the incident he referred to he would not discuss, never again would he discuss. "I know you are not truly dead to Xianghua's plight… it has been difficult for her… to difficult…as it has been difficult for me too. I owe them Li long, I owe her. You would not deny me that chance, would you?"

**Promise, **

**Always promise…**

Li long felt his anger recede like the tide at dawn. "I can't your majesty." He said, switching back to the honorific of a soldier, not a friend. Both noticed the change but said nothing. "But it's different."

"Sometimes the pasts people carry make it hesitant to believe in their futures. However, what people fail to see is that everyone can live happily if showed the right path. Do this for Xianghua Li long, help her see what needs to be seen."

"And the rest?" Li long inquired softly.

"Should not be seen."

**I want to see everything… **

"Understood." Li long said with a look in his eyes. Děng hòu watched the captain of his guard, noticing the way the light made illusionary lines over the young man's face, a future portrait of an old man.

_Would he live that long? _

_Would he be here to grow old with?_

"Li long, the beginning is the same, but the ending will be different this time... for all of us."

Li long did not need this shit in any form, but he would have it up to his waist before long. He had enough wet behind the ear soldiers to train; he could have lived without looking after Xianghua Ciao. She would resist him at every corner and most likely drive him to complete seppuku.

The young soldier stepped into the shadow, his eyes glowing a brown so dark it was black. Their infinite depths an empty pit as he held them to Děng hòu's. As much as his mind seeked it, he could not refuse Děng hòu, not after before.

At this quiet admittance Li long felt something curl in his chest and die.

**Teach me everything Li…**

**Everything…**

His fingernails dug into his palms, cutting sickles into his callused hands.

"I'll do it."

…

Xianglian sat upon the sanctum floor and drifted.

Around the lines of her body was a small scattering of sand, the grains creating a circle of the earth. The corners; North, East, South, and West were each depicted with a pure white candle, their lights melting into the darkness.

In the center of the grains where everything originated and faded lay the holy circlet of the Dvapara-Yuga. The silver glass winking like fire in the shadows, their dark, slithering masses creeping just outside the circle.

The long fingers of Xianglian's hands skated lightly over the glinting relic; its craftsmanship flawless to the mortal eye, seemingly carved from the silver foam of the sea. The pure metal rolling into shimmering waves inlayed with gems the color of witch hazel. The sharded fragments a bridge that held the sterling metal to its refelective piece of glass suppossedly carved from the tears of Krishna as returned to his eternal abode of Vaikuntha.

It had been seemingly forever since she had called upon the relic's sight.

_**Days…**_

_**Months…**_

_**Years…**_

The last time Xianglian had laid her garnet eyes upon the glass was when the leaves were staining the ground in a myriad red, the breath of autumn turning the countryside to a copper watercolor gleaming with the brilliance of the setting sun.

The last vision she had seen in the cover of the changing leaves made her want to break the soft glass. For in the world of its frame she saw darkness, and within the darkness she saw it.

_**A red staircase coming from the sky…**_

How desperately she had kept away from the southern point of the temple after that, but today her feet had been twitching mercilessly to bring her here, and now she had finally given in. With reluctance in her stance and her heart she laid a tanned finger over the glass. Watching how certain patches of darkness had not yet faded from the last scrying.

Clearing her mind Xianglian laid her hand flat on the glass, its surface like freshly fallen snow or cool water.

The scrying circle began to glow softly, each grain of sand like a shooting star. The glass for a moment gleamed a fractured white, and through the breeding cracks darkness traced its presence with black lines. Spreading out to the surface of the frame like the roots of a tree.

_Xianglian could feel her self separating... two halves breaking apart… _

_**Music… **_

_**A broken melody…**_

_The distant murmur of a piano out of tune._

_Xianglian could feel herself sinking and made no move to stop or even slow her fall._

_The darkness had become a tangible thing and she grasped it with eager fingers, and as the slender digits reached for the edges she was thrown into a room with candles as bright as sunlight. _

_"I've been expecting you Xianglian." The voice was a purr, a seduction into all things. _

_The owner of the voice was sitting at the piano, the graceful strong line of her shoulders rising like the snowy peaks of mountains with each light press of the ivory._

_Xianglian found herself wondering when the music had stopped, and felt the empty echo within her breast._

_The impressive mountains of the musician's shoulders shook with deep laughter...the sound smoky like burning buildings. The laughter grew in layers as the figure turned herself around, the profile of the face mixed in the darkness of the glittering chandelier she knew better than to touch._

_The figure was dressed in a leather bustier the color of freshly spilt blood, the suede patches clinging tightly to the globes of her impressive milky breasts that were rising over the tops of the folds, the edges tapering down to an insignificant V between her smooth thighs, showcasing long legs nearly hidden by knee high buckles that swam across the surface of her heeled boots. _

_The skin held in the leather was as white as the piano keys, and the face seemed to be carved from marble; it was a strong face more handsome than beautiful; full lips a pale pink were set in a creed smile, tilting the corner of eyes the hue of brandy wine, nearly scarlet in the half lights downwards. The cheekbones could carve ice, their sharp edges unsoftened by the thick wisps of white hair that lay across a wide forehead. _

_**How can light produce such darkness…**_

_The gleam in her eyes was power, and madness. _

_Xianglian could not deny she __**wanted **__that. The shadows behind those wino eyes drew Xianglian in and held her like a soldier promised victory. _

_A hand bathed in red held out her __**whip **__like hand, smiling, the long claws of her fingers beckoning Xianglian forwards._

_Xianglian backed away slowly, the last of the music she tried to remember fading from her mind. The ability to bend others, to keep things in place._

_The last of her music slowly died, and with it the image of the room began to grow murky._

_Even as the figure grew watery like paint on paper Xianglian felt a pull trying to urge her forwards. _

_The music swelled in final memory like a sun before dying, alive and terrible in the echo of its end_

_"Xianglian… dance for me."_

Xianglian felt herself rip away from the beckoning, garnet eyes snapping open-

-And found she was screaming

Xianglian tore her hands away from the glass, its surface now a solid sea of black.

**Shattered…**

**Falling…**

Her entire body felt as if it had been thrown off a cliff, lying in the folds of a perpetual fog. Trembling for reasons she could not recall she slowly laid the cover back over the Dvapara-Yuga. The black length of its eye watching her as the red silk lay over its inanimate length like a lid over a coffin.

In fear she looked upon the tanned length of her hands, the veins once cool blue, were now a faint black, slowly seeping away into her skin.

Xianglian let out a deep breath, her body shaking with the effort.

Desperately trying to recall the vision she had seen, Xianglian found she could not form a picture. Straining mind and body she let her eyes shut.

**A red staircase falling…**

**Falling…**

**Falling…**

**Crashing…**

**Breaking…**

Xianglian's eyes tore away from the seams, and she found the room alive and crawling with shapes she had never seen before. The dust sifting in the air had become a parade of glass, attacking her legs, her arms, and her face. She found herself struggling to stand, but the glass was now taking the shape of snakes, coiling in pretzels of fear that held her down. Xianglian kicked Dvapara-Yuga away from her feet, heard its distant crack against the wall over the sound of voices.

**An out of tune piano…**

Xianglian was going down, **down**... falling towards the flaming pit of unfathomable darkness. She could feel her heart pulling from the hole in her chest as clawed at her gi in the hopes to keep it in. Struggling to get to her feet Xianglian fell.

**Dying…**

Xianglian shook her head desperately, blindly reaching for the Dvapara-Yuga, something recognizable, something to give her the balance she thought she knew. Screaming in rage she threw herself on the floor, wriggling, kicking at the vision she could not remember to stay away

Blood ran from her nose in a bold declaration of failure, choking her breath as she inhaled the shadows, and they were a part of her… and they were everywhere-

**Never escape…**

**Never…**

The distant clamor of voices grew over the volume over her cries, and suddenly the pain was receding.

Her body would not stop falling; she could sense the cold feel of it snapping like a twig, being dragged into the black depths within the scathing shadows. How far was it until the bottom, and if she hit it would this end?, The darkness lapped at her eyes, and further towards the distant pin of light at its bottom- a distance she would never reach.

A stray snake seemingly wrapped around the spot a heart used to be, coiling.

**Waiting…**

An icy wave overlapped her head, and in the distance she could see the dark mass of her heart shredding into a million pieces...

How could she still feel in this bottomless pit, and how could it feel like she was falling upwards.

**Piano… playing...**

Xianglian felt as if she were going to crash through whatever lay above and then…

"Xianglian." A voice as deep as the sea lilted. Xianglian saw an outline, burning bright to take shape from the edges of the light.

"**I've been waiting for you Xianglian…**

Xianglian felt her eyes roll back, and then there was darkness.

**Darkness…**

**Darkness…**

**Darkness…**

…

_Again I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to review… it means so much to me. I know things are still really confusing and probably will be for a while. I will hurry to clear things, and do not worry. After the next few chapters things should start to take definite shape_


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